


bully da ba$tard x male reader

by bleedblackblood (deadbeatfreak99)



Series: kpop x male reader [12]
Category: Khh, School Rapper (Korea TV), Show Me the Money (Korea TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Panic Attacks, Platonic Relationships, male reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27523717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadbeatfreak99/pseuds/bleedblackblood
Summary: Byungho is used to having panic attacks but, luckily, he also has you.
Relationships: Yoon Byungho | Bully da Ba$tard/Reader
Series: kpop x male reader [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010256
Kudos: 8





	bully da ba$tard x male reader

**Author's Note:**

> request: you were talking about bully on your main last time. i checked out his music and am now his fan bc of you 😳👉👈 maybe write smth for him? smth like a hurt/comfort type of thing, were he has a panic attack or breakdown and reader comforts him. ofc, only if it's not triggering for you since you mentioned your condition that time... take care and thank u!
> 
> Note: ah man i'm glad you like his stuff. this is more platonic than not, hope you don't mind. thanks for requesting (and for being concerned about me, i appreciate it)
> 
> trigger warning for panic/anxiety attacks told in detail.

Things like this happened often throughout his days closed within the four walls that silenced him. He'd be fixating on his music, something would distract him subsequently ruining his flow of concentration, and then he'd collapse onto his mattress, head in his hands, and begin to think. Thinking was never good.

From thoughts spawned his fears, worries, doubts, until they overlapped and unified into a beast he could only cower in terror before. All that frightened him manifested into a monster his own mind created, until he couldn't even make out what was buzzing within his head but he knew he couldn't breathe.

He'd wait and try to get himself under control, calm himself by chanting a mantra of frustration, "It's okay, it's okay. Fuck, it's okay," and the words would materialise from his lips, transforming from indecipherable mumbles to near shouts, his hands tangled in his unkempt hair and pulling, trying to ground himself with the pain. He rocked back and forth, knees to his chest, sweat forming along his skin, and the only coherent thought he could make out was murmuring a sole name.

He scrambled for his phone, sight blurred, and pressed the contact of the one friend he knew would always pick up, because he was always there to help him through moments like these.

The beeping of the dial split through the stuffy air of his one room living space, and though it initially gave him a brief sense of reassurance, it abruptly made his panic spike, bringing him to cut the call before the other could pick up. _'[Y/N]'_ flashed on the screen that shut off, but a part of Byungho knew that it was enough to alert the male who lived just below him to come over.

The sound of the call gone, Byungho's breathing worsened. His throat burned from being dry and his chest stung with the fast breaths. His head spun from lack of oxygen and his limbs grew stiff, muscles painfully cramping and searing his inner flesh like a wild fire. He couldn't move as he collapsed sideways onto the mattress, hands pinched and every inch of his body, inside and out, in an agony that brought his flickering eyes to glisten.

His lungs felt to be collapsing, refusing to fill with a minimum amount of air without replicating the sensation of blades slicing them apart. With his sight fading and his heart seemingly bursting against his ribs, he remained in a state of paralysis, not processing anything other than the pain that worsened when he tried to move because damn it, a part of him still really didn't want to be found in such a state by his friend.

Too late, his door was pushed open and his name fell from [Y/N]'s lips in a panic.

"Byungho!"

He couldn't speak, mouth overly dry and tongue limp, consciousness waning every few seconds, but he could feel the warmth that came from the hands of his friend on his shoulders, the palm that settled gently on his cheek before sliding to his forearms and urging him upright.

"Hey, buddy, you're okay," [Y/N] spoke quietly, soothingly, wrapping the quivering form of the rapper in his arms and holding him to his chest, "Breathe. It's okay. Take a breath from your mouth and exhale from your nose. Come on."

Byungho did his best to blink his eyes into focus, the uttered words of comfort scarcely reaching his ears, but he tried, he did his best to do as told.

He felt as though he was teetering between passing out and passing away, and at such a point the pain had gotten so bad he preferred the latter. Nonetheless, the hands that comforted him and the words of encouragement gave him a new found will, a strength of sorts, and he fought to take in a breath and hold it for more than a millisecond before letting it go.

He coughed, making him gasp for air, and [Y/N] held him closer.

"Slowly, slowly. It's alright, Byungho, you're alright."

Tears had spilled from the dyed-black haired male's eyes at a time he couldn't pin point, but as the minutes went by, his breathing gradually returned to a less choppy state. Nonetheless, [Y/N] didn't let him go.

"See? You made it," [Y/N] whispered, gently patting Byungho's back, "I'm proud of you."

The rapper's form still quivered despite the way his limbs had locked, and noticing this, [Y/N] slowly peeled away.

Almost instantly, with his hands still cramped and pale, Byungho struggled to steady the back of them enough to roughly wipe at his eyes, anger and frustration marring his swollen and damp face. He didn't care if his knuckles were pushing at his corneas, he needed to rid himself of his tears; [Y/N] stopped him.

"You're going to hurt yourself," He paused, "I'll dry your face later. We need to help your hands and legs first."

Byungho avoided meeting his gaze and nodded. No matter how many times the other had come in and seen him in such a way, he never stopped being ashamed and embarrassed of it. He was pathetic.

[Y/N]'s hands were kneading those of the male, attempting to slowly ease them open and holding them still when Byungho tried to force his muscles to function and hissed at the resulting pain.

It was a slow process, more than ten minutes passing just to get his palms to show and his fingers to stiffly move, but [Y/N] smiled when he saw that they were loosening, and placed a gentle kiss at the centre of the both of them. The action wasn't a foreign one, [Y/N] tended to do it when Byungho was having an attack of any severity, but it never failed to bring a faint pink to the latter's ears and a slight spike to his pulse.

"Thank you," The rapper croaked, watching as [Y/N] lifted his head to offer a soft smile.

"I'll always be here for you, man."

The lingering negativity in Byungho's head wanted to negate the statement with doubt, but he swallowed it down.

"Thank you for not leaving me alone."


End file.
